


Nothing Short of the End of the World

by Jaye_Valentine, Reno_MacLeod



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brothers, First Time, Incest, M/M, Pre-Series, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-21
Updated: 2009-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-03 12:31:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaye_Valentine/pseuds/Jaye_Valentine, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reno_MacLeod/pseuds/Reno_MacLeod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Separated from John, Sam and Dean are forced to rely on one another to get through a terrible night in the wilderness. The stress of the situation brings out something both of them have been holding close to the vest. Warning: Underage (Sam is 15, Dean is 19).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Short of the End of the World

Dean let out a torrent of curses as his leg was sucked down into the mud of Fowler's Bog. He saw Sam stop and turn around, ready to come back despite how close the thing behind them followed. 

"No, Sammy, run! Don't look back!" Dean yanked his leg free and stumbled forward again. They were both covered in dark, disgusting swamp crud, but it didn't matter; they were both still alive. So far.

Two weeks ago everything had been fine. Their father had brought them to this place after receiving word of a large black beast responsible for the murder of several townsfolk in Waldo, Maine. The creature purportedly made its home in the dense swampland of Fowler's Bog, but after a week of hunting, their father had turned up nothing more than an indigenous black bear.

The thing chasing them was no black bear, unless black bears had suddenly developed claws as long as carving knives and could up and disappear at will.

Sam stopped in his tracks, holding a hand up to quiet Dean, and he cocked his head, listening. Nothing. He waited a good long minute before moving carefully to meet Dean halfway.

"I think it's gone," Sam whispered. "I don't hear it anymore. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Dean said, turning a three-sixty in place to see if his eyes could catch what his ears couldn't. "But we can't stop here, Sammy. We're too exposed. We need to find a place we can put our backs to. Come on." He took Sam by the upper arm and started pulling him along uneven terrain. Dean had never seen anything supernatural just give up like that. Even though the only thing he could really hear was the pounding of his own heart in his ears, he didn’t trust the silence enough to be safe.

"Hey, let go; you're hurting my arm." Sam wrested away from Dean's grip and took a few long strides ahead. At fifteen, Sam seemed all limbs, lanky with spidery arms and legs, not caught up yet to Dean's six-feet-one but getting mighty damn close. "Where are we going? You think maybe we should just follow the river?"

Dean nodded and started after Sam. "Yeah. I remember the river on the map," Dean said. "If we keep going north along the bank, we'll hit a road. Less trees there, and we can walk in the water and cover our scent, too." 

Dean only hoped nothing worse lived in the murky black water. Never could tell, and this part of the country seemed overpopulated with supernatural shit anyway. The Pine Barrens in New Jersey had taught him _that_ by the time his own voice had stopped doing the Peter Brady thing. 

"Dad shouldn't have left us here. Uncle Bobby knows plenty of other hunters he could have taken, or we could've just gone with Dad. This sucks." Sam looked over at Dean, brow knit and eyes serious. "When's he gonna stop treating me like a little kid?"

"When you aren't one." Dean tugged off his boots when they reached the river. The nearly full moon overhead illuminated the ground around them almost as bright as day. Good for them to see by, but bad because it meant the beast following could see them as well. "Dad thought this place was safe. Over seven days of hunting and not a sign. How the hell could he have known the thing would show its face once he left? Take your shoes off."

"How could he know it _wouldn't_?" 

"Pffft, you sound like a fuckin' lawyer," Dean said. "Take your shoes _off_, Sammy." 

Sam yanked off his sneakers and stuffed his socks inside them, tossing the shoes over his shoulder after tying the laces together. He rolled the legs of his jeans up. "I think it's just easier for him not to have to look after anybody but himself."

"Don't talk like that, Sammy. Dad loves us. We'll get to a place where the phone has a signal and call him. He'll be here as soon as he can!" Dean checked the bulky Nokia and frowned at the lack of bars. Stuffing it back into his pocket, he walked into the icy water and grit his teeth. 

Sam stepped into water mid-thigh deep on him, seeming not to notice the biting cold. He zipped his coat up to his neck and moved forward through the thick muck. "Why do you always defend him, Dean? No matter what? And quit calling me Sammy."

Dean answered with silence. He hated to admit it, but he knew if he started to believe what Sam said and lost faith in their father, he'd have no faith in anything at all. That seemed dangerous. At least this way Dean knew what was expected of him. He would defend and protect Sam, always.

The boys walked until Dean could barely feel his feet. When it started to rain, he signaled for Sam to stop. "Wait here; I'm going to go ashore. I'll make sure we aren't being followed and see if I can find us someplace dry."

"You want me to stand in the dark scary river alone?" Sam scrunched his face and shook his head. "I'm not sure I like this plan, Dean."

Dean reflected on Sam's words, pursed his lips and agreed. "Yeah, probably a bad idea. Come on." Dean climbed onto the bank and shoved his feet into his boots, hating the feel of the wet sludge, but knowing the ground strewn with pebbles and twigs would feel even worse on bare feet. His jeans were wet up to the knees and chafing. He felt generally crabby and the shitty weather wasn't helping. "I'd give anything to have the Impala here right now."

"I remember reading about caves in this part of the state," Sam said as he slipped back into his socks and shoes. "I did a home-schooling unit on New England geography last year after we—after _you and Dad_ got rid of that vampire nest in Vermont. I figured maybe it would come in handy one day." Sam shrugged. "A lot of stuff seems to happen in this part of the country."

"Yeah, because it's old," Dean said, stamping his feet in an effort to restore feeling back into them. "Caves, huh? So we need to find a rocky incline." He looked around them and noticed the river seemed to run right alongside a steep, craggy cliff. He reached for Sam's hand.

Sam pulled away from the offered hand but reconsidered, finally slipping his hand into Dean's. "Do you think the whatever-it-is went back to town?"

"Don't know. Maybe." Only half listening, Dean focused on finding shelter and getting Sam out of the rain. A crack in the rock wall answered his silent prayer. "Sammy, flashlight."

Sam unzipped a pocket in his jacket, pulled out the mini-Maglite and flipped it on before handing it over. "I-I'm getting really cold. You s-s-see anything?"

The crack looked barely wide enough for them to squeeze through, but as the flashlight broke away the darkness, Dean could see into a much wider cavern. Perfect, and the ground appeared dry. "Yeah. Come on." He crawled in through the opening, and then turned to help Sam through. "We'll be safe in here until morning."

After squeezing through the crack with a grunt, Sam immediately stepped closer to Dean and grabbed onto his arm. "I hope there's n-no bats in here," Sam said, sounding nervous. "I really, really, _really_ hate bats."

Dean wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders and dropped his forehead against Sam's. "I won't let anything hurt you. That's a promise." Something wet hit Dean's cheek and he looked up. "Rain is finding its way inside from somewhere above, so we should be able to make a fire and not asphyxiate. Clear an area, and I'll go out and gather some wood. Hopefully, there's still some dry enough to light."

"Okay," Sam said, nodding. "B-but don't go too far, and hurry right back, okay?" Looking sheepish, Sam turned his back to Dean, sweeping his feet to the side as he walked away, clearing debris from the cave floor.

Dean watched Sam: the way his body moved, the soft curl of his hair against his neck, the piss-poor job Sam was doing of pretending not to notice Dean was watching. Exhausted, all Dean really wanted now was to spoon up behind Sam and sleep. He forced himself back into the real world and slipped out to forage for wood.

The wind was blowing away from the cliff, so Dean was able to find a few areas fairly close to the rock with scraps of acceptably dry wood. Taking all he could carry, he crawled back through the cave opening.

Sam had brushed the cave floor clean to within an inch of its life in one spot about the size of a garbage can lid. He'd made a neat ring around the circumference of the clean spot with rocks and pebbles. Loose dirt and brush and leaves were piled up a few feet to one side against the cave wall, looking very much like a makeshift cot. Sam jumped up and hurried over, relieving Dean of some of his burden.

"This ought to last through the night," Sam said. He gave Dean a crooked smile. "And no guano on the ground, so no bats. Unless there are magical non-shitting bats in creepy Maine."

"Only you would think of that," Dean said, shaking his head and laughing. He started snapping the larger branches down into more manageable sticks and laid them out in the prepared ring. "Nice job with the fire ring. Did the backpack make it, or did we lose that along the way?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, it's under my coat." He put the wood down next to the fire ring then unzipped and removed his jacket. After slipping the nylon straps off his shoulders, he handed the backpack to Dean. "The coat's waterproof, but the backpack isn't. Didn't want any of the important stuff getting wet." He put his coat back on but didn't zip up, and he grinned at Dean. "What, did you think I had suddenly mutated into a hunchback or something?"

"Cute." Dean dug through the backpack until he found his lighter. He flicked the flint roller and smiled to see the lighter still worked, but then he paused and frowned. "You should've said something. I could have carried it."

"Did I say I had a problem? No." Sam dropped down on his ass hard in the pile of soft debris, shaking his head. Jaw tight, he let out a sharp breath through his nose. "The lighter's dry and so is the ammo, Dean, and that bottle of Jack Daniels you thought I wouldn't notice in the lining didn't get broken either. I was careful, Dean. I'm always careful. Jeez."

Dean quirked an eyebrow in Sam's direction. "What squirrel drove a pine cone up your ass? I just offered to help." But the point had been taken and Dean pulled the flask-sized whiskey bottle out since there was no sense now in sneaking around to drink it. He took a hard swallow of the liquid fire and tried to keep from making The Face. Sam was shivering, so Dean offered the bottle. "Here. It'll help warm you up."

With wary, narrowed eyes, Sam took the bottle and put it to his lips, and despite an obvious, valiant effort not to make The Face, he did. Nose scrunched and lips pinched, Sam's eyes watered. He handed the bottle back to Dean.

"Thanks," Sam croaked with a little sputtering cough, and then chuckled. "That's some nasty stuff. I hope it's worth the grossness." Sam bumped a knee against Dean's leg. "Sorry for being so grumpy. I'm just getting kind of fed up at being treated like I'm six when I'm probably smarter and more responsible than most grown-ups you know."

The "_including Dad_" finish remained unspoken, but Dean got it nonetheless.

Dean sat down, whiskey still clutched in his hands. He stared into the fire and for a moment hadn't a single thought. When his mind started turning and thoughts filtered back in, they were about Sam and the fights they'd been having lately whenever Dad wasn't around. "It gets hard for me, Sammy. Dad leaves me in charge. If anything happens to you, I'm responsible."

He stopped there, not wanting to say more of what crossed his mind. Dean was far too aware of how much Sam had grown up in the last year. Sam's voice had gotten deeper, shoulders grown broader. Living the lifestyle they did, Dean had gotten a good look at Sam's body on numerous occasions and what it did to him was his deepest shame and darkest secret.

Dean offered the bottle of whiskey to Sam. "Another hit?"

"Yeah," Sam said, taking the bottle. "Just don't tell Dad if I say something I shouldn't or end up puking my guts out. I think I've earned it." Sam tipped the bottle back for a swallow, The Face not making an appearance this time. Winchesters were nothing if not quickly adaptable. Sam returned the bottle to Dean. "Three more years and you won't have to be responsible for me anymore. I'll be old enough to vote and join the Army." Sam smiled and snorted a laugh. "But you'll still have to sneak me liquor, which is pretty fucked up if you ask me."

Dean took the bottle and found himself staring at the ground. Not responsible for Sam? He knew Sam intended on going to college. When their dad wasn't around, Sam had asked Dean questions any typical teen would ask their older brother. Some of those involved future plans. Still, it sucker-punched Dean in the pit of his gut every time he thought about Sam leaving.

"Three years is a long time," Dean said finally, more for his own reassurance than Sam's. "Until then, I'll protect you because you're mine."

"You ever wonder what it would like to be normal?" Sam tossed another log and a few loose twigs onto the fire. Apparently warmed enough, Sam shucked off his jacket and tossed it aside. He shoved the long sleeves of a baseball jersey up, the name and logo of the team now too faded to read on the front of the pale blue shirt. Sam shifted closer to Dean, legs, hips, and arms touching. "I mean, what do you think you'd be doing now, if all this…this _stuff_ wasn't real and Dad wasn't a hunter?"

Even if Sam hadn't been pressed so close into his personal space, Dean's answer would have been the same.

"I've never thought about it." Dean knew he'd spoken too quickly. "Military, I guess."

Sam burst out laughing, grin as broad as the great outdoors and twice as bright as the sun. "The military? You? Taking orders from strangers and getting out of bed before sunrise? Yeah. Tell me another one, Dean, 'cause that was a good one."

Toppling backward onto the pile of grass and brush, Sam giggled and held his stomach. Apparently Jack Daniels Airline had landed.

"What?" Dean said.

Sam laughed harder.

Dean—pissed off and too distracted to channel his anger elsewhere—finished the whiskey and threw the bottle into the fire. The glass shattered, and the burst of orange flame reflected in Sam's wide eyes.

Sam—lying back on the dirt-and-brush mattress, a bent arm flung back over his head, fingers of his other hand idly scratching his bare belly where his shirt had hiked up—looked good enough to eat. Sam's tongue ran slowly over his bottom lip, and damned if Dean could tell whether or not the gesture had been purposeful. "Dean?"

To Dean, Sam's voice sounded just a little deeper than usual, with a decidedly husky tone. Sam's eyes look heavy-lidded—with exhaustion, from the booze, or something sweeter and more dangerous? Dean shifted, his jeans suddenly a size too small in the crotch. "Yeah?"

"I'm cold," Sam said. "Maybe a little body heat might help."

"Oh." _Shit_. Didn’t really matter now if Sam's actions had been deliberate. The moment Dean pressed up against him, Sam would know. Right then, Dean didn’t care.

Sam rolled onto one side.

Dean lay down behind Sam and wrapped one arm around his chest. "Better?"

"Yeah," Sam said, and damned if he didn’t arch his ass right back into Dean's spooning crotch. Hitched breath, shuddering thighs, and that sweet little ass pressed close, too close. "Much better."

Scared to even breathe, Dean didn’t move. He knew this was wrong in most people's eyes, but if Sam wanted it too, what could be the harm? Lips pressed close to Sam's neck, close enough he could feel the soft little hairs at the nape of his neck, Dean whispered, "I know I'm tough on you, Sammy, but it's only because I love you. You know that, don’t you?"

"Yeah, I know." That firm little ass bucked back again Dean, challenging. "I love you too, Dean. More than you know."

Dean pressed his hand against Sam's hip to still him. His fingers curled, nails biting hard into soft, worn denim. "Sammy, don't." _Because I might lose control. Because I might do what I've wanted to do for months_.

"And why not?" Sam didn't resume his grinding back into Dean's groin, but he hadn't moved away, either. "It's not like I'm ever going to have a normal life. You know, settle down with somebody, white picket fence and kids and a dog and all that crap. We've never stayed in one place long enough for me to finish a semester of school. I've seen real stuff most people only have nightmares about. We're not normal, Dean. Normal rules don't apply to us. They _shouldn't_ apply to us. We're different."

The ensuing silence hurt Dean's ears. Sam was right. Most hunters didn't live to see retirement, and few ever settled down. Their father, John Winchester, had married and had kids, but that was before John had been dragged into this life. Dean and Sam faced a life of isolation. Alone, save for themselves. Dean slipped his hand further over Sam's hip and nervously ran fingertips along the soft hairs of Sam's belly. "I didn’t think you'd noticed."

"I've noticed," Sam said, covering Dean's hand with his own. "I've noticed you looking at me when you thought I wasn't paying attention." Sam paused and let out a sharp breath. "One day a couple weeks ago you were in the shower, and I had to take a piss really bad. I came into the bathroom without knocking and you didn't notice, and you were…well, you were jacking off, and I could have _sworn_ I heard you say my name." Sam looked over his shoulder. "Were you thinking about me?"

Dean swallowed so hard he thought he'd taken his tongue with it. "You…you heard me? You saw me?" He wanted to crawl to the back of the cave and never come out, but found himself completely paralyzed. Time to tell the truth. "Yeah. Yeah, I was, Sammy."

Sam smiled. "It's okay, Dean. I do it all the time."

Dean frowned and grunted a laugh. "You do? You must be better at hiding it than I am. How long?"

Sam snorted a laugh. "How long have I been jerking off, or how long have I been thinking about you when I do it?"

That broke the tension and Dean found himself laughing, pulling Sam close again. He slipped his hand under Sam's shirt and traced the bottom of a bony rib cage. "You mean I wasn't your first?"

Sam grinned so broadly the deep dimples in his cheeks made an appearance, and Dean realized how damn long it had been since he'd seen them.

"Nope," Sam said. "First few times it was just me and my right hand and not a lot of thought involved. But then, after that, I started…well, fantasizing while I was, you know, doing it. I tried to think of other people, even girls sometimes, but you always popped into my head. I didn't say anything because I was embarrassed." Sam sat up, Dean's hand still on his belly, and he yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. "I don't think I want to be embarrassed about it anymore."

Dean had seen Sam's naked chest every day of their lives, yet somehow as Sam turned toward him, it seemed as if Dean were seeing his younger brother for the very first time. He closed his eyes, dizzy with the vision as endless nights of fantasizing hit him. Just the night before, he'd envisioned himself shooting his load across that narrow chest. Now, with Sam so close and knowing how Sam felt, it seemed a little too much like déjà vu. When Dean opened his eyes again, Sam was still there, still shirtless, looking at him with concern. Dean couldn’t think.

Slipping his hand further up Sam's chest as he rose to his knees, Dean pushed his mouth to Sam's and kissed him.

Sam didn't protest, and he kissed Dean back with the expected awkwardness of someone who'd never been kissed before. Breaking away breathless, Sam's face looked splotchy and flushed. The Adam's apple that had only recently protruded bobbed in Sam's neck as he swallowed hard. "What're we going to do about this, Dean? I know it's wrong but…damn, you turn me on so much I can hardly stand to look at you."

Sliding his hand along Sam's neck, Dean's fingers played gently with Sam's earlobe. "We're in the middle of nowhere, Sammy. No one needs to know. It can be our little secret."

Sam swallowed again, his gaze riveted on Dean's face as if gauging sincerity. Finally, he nodded. "I promise. I promise I won't ever say a word."

With those simple words the space between them disappeared. Dean crushed his mouth to Sam's lips and claimed him, growling almost feral in his need. He raked short fingernails against Sam's neck and gripped the hair at the back of Sam's head to hold him tight. When the kiss broke, Dean was already out of breath. He struggled with his coat, arms getting caught up in it until Sam intervened and helped free him.

"Thanks," Dean said, feeling sheepish.

"Don't mention it," Sam said, tossing Dean's coat aside. "Take your shirt off. I want to see you." Without taking his eyes from Dean, Sam toed off his sneakers and socks.

"Yeah, sure." Dean wondered why he was the shy one suddenly. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the edges of his shirt and hauled it up over his head. He tossed the shirt aside and went for his belt, loosening it, his eyes locked on Sam the whole time. He unzipped and left his jeans hanging open to start working on Sam's.

Sam's breath hitched and he reached out, slow and tentative, until his fingertips grazed the exposed flesh and thatch of hair between Dean's parted zipper, the rest of the goods still denim-clad. "We're probably going to go to hell for this, aren't we?"

"Sammy, I'd say we're probably going to hell anyway, so we may as well have some fun first." Dean smiled, and after tugging Sam's zipper down he slid his hand between the material and Sam's flesh, cupping the surprisingly firm length he found there. "We'll just have to help kill a few more demons and maybe make up for it some."

"Oh God, Dean," Sam whispered, and in the firelight Dean saw sweat break out on Sam's forehead and upper lip. "Been thinking about this for so long." Long fingers clutched at Dean's waistband and yanked the jeans down below Dean's hips. Sam's eyes flicked up from Dean's exposed erection. "I want you to…to…." 

"Anything you want, Sammy. Anything." Dean felt so helpless. He would die for Sam. He'd always said he would, but now he knew it for sure. That was his job, to protect Sam. But something snapped, and the promise took on a whole new meaning, a whole new passion. Dean sought out Sam's hand and guided it between his legs.

Sam moved closer, fingers curling around Dean's cock. He laid his head on Dean's chest. "I want you to fuck me, Dean. I want you mark me and make me yours, so nobody else can ever take that away from me."

Those words cut deep and Dean felt his eyes sting. "No one's ever coming between us, Sam. I won't let them. It's you and me, and that's that."

Dean held Sam with one arm around his waist, the other hand shoving Sam's pants to his knees. He took Sam's cock in hand and gave a mutual stroke. Sam's cock was heavy and thick, and not so different from Dean's. Sam had grown up.

With his hand still gripped around Dean's erection, Sam stepped his way out of his jeans and shoved them aside with one foot. He began to lower himself to the soft pile of brush, urging Dean down with him.

Dean moved in seeming slow motion, crawling on top of Sam, his knees going between Sam's spread thighs. Their lips met again, the kiss still incredibly new and inexperienced, but Dean found that somehow perfect. He lowered his hips down against Sam, letting their dicks touch and rub, shy but determined. "You're mine. You always were, and I guess we both knew it inside."

"I'm scared, Dean," Sam said, his gaze fixed on Dean's face, and God, how heartbreaking for Dean to see such age, such tired wisdom in eyes so young. "I'm so scared of losing you. I've got nothing in this world that really matters to me except for you." Sam spread his legs, bent his knees and put his feet flat on the ground. "Do it, Dean. I want this so bad."

Dean knew he needed to be the strong one. Sam counted on him not to break down. He flashed his smile, kissed Sam in a soft, everything-is-going-to-be-fine way, and when they parted Dean spat on his fingers. "Don't have anything with me to make this easier, Sam. I wasn’t exactly expecting it to happen, but I'll go as gently as I can."

Shifting his weight, Dean pressed a slicked finger to Sam's hole and after two or three swirls around it, pushed in.

Sam's mouth dropped open in a silent gasp, but he nodded obvious consent for Dean to continue.

Dean nuzzled his mouth against Sam's left nipple, nipping and sucking it as he worked his finger in deeper. Slow going; Sam was tight and when the burn apparently got to be too much, Sam clamped down hard.

"Relax, Sammy," Dean whispered. "Try to let everything down there go loose, okay?"

Panting, Sam said, "Hurts. Don't know if I can do this." Sam slid his arms over Dean's shoulders, fingers gripping, nails digging in. He blew out a few loud breaths and nodded. "Okay. I think I'm okay now."

"You sure? We can wait until we're more prepared." God, he hoped Sam wouldn't want that, but he would respect Sam's needs. Dean curled his fingers a bit and tapped the place inside he knew would get Sam's mind off the painful stretching.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, _oh fuck_! " Sam's eyes snapped open wide, big as the proverbial saucers, and his hips rose off the dirt floor of the cave as if Sam were suddenly lying on hot coals. "Oh my God, Dean, what the hell was that?"

Dean felt Sam's cock stiffen and flex between their bodies, warm fluid seeping onto Dean's belly. He smiled from ear to ear. "That, little brother, is a little piece of heavenly real estate on Earth."

Finger flicking lightly against Sam's prostate again, Dean moved closer and into position. He eased his finger free, gripped his cock and after smearing it with Sam's slick, pushed down and in against Sam's hole.

Sam trembled and moaned, and at first Dean couldn't be sure if pleasure or pain was causing the reaction. "Burns," Sam said, biting his bottom lip. "But it's good. I think."

God, Sam felt tight. Dean did his best to go slow and steady, but his eagerness made his hips jerk a few times when he hadn't meant to. The look on Sam's face relayed discomfort, if not outright pain.

"I'm all the way in," Dean said. "Just breathe, Sam. God, I can feel you pulsing all around me." Dean dropped down over Sam, elbows on either side of Sam's chest. "Going to move now. Look at me."

"Okay," Sam said, looking into Dean's eyes, an expression of fierce concentration on his face. "It's, oh God, it's starting to feel good now. The burning's gone." Letting out a long, slow breath sounding of relief, a crooked smile spread across Sam's cute face. "Wow. I guess I'm not a virgin anymore, huh?"

"I just popped my brother's cherry," Dean said with a grin. "Do you know how wrong that sounds?"

Dean withdrew his cock and caught Sam's gasp with his mouth, teeth raking Sam's lower lip when he pushed back in. From there, green-light-go; Sam seemed to open up for him and Dean took full advantage. He started a good rhythm, bucking up against Sam hard enough to fill the cave with the sound of slapping flesh.

Sam held on tight, mostly just taking it, occasionally bucking his hips upward to meet Dean's increasingly rough thrusts. Digging his fingernails into Dean's back harder, Sam shuddered. "'Dean. God."

A few warm jets of fluid splashed Dean's belly, Sam grunting and moaning with each one, and the hottest, tightest thing Dean had ever felt clamped hard around his dick, pulsing.

Dean had visions of this lasting for hours, but no way in hell was that happening. The moment Sam started to spasm around him, Dean knew he'd seen heaven. Growling, he forced himself deep, and cupping Sam's face in both hands he ground his mouth against Sam's in a desperate kiss.

A quick learner, Sam's kiss already seemed more experienced and not so clumsy, Sam's tongue the aggressor this time, and the hot, rough kiss coupled with the way the muscles of Sam's ass gripped him over and over again brought Dean crashing over the edge.

"Come on, Dean," Sam said, working that ass like there was no tomorrow, and Dean felt his balls start to churn. "Come on, come inside me. I want to feel it, and I'll never let anybody else do it to me. I promise. That's yours, Dean, all yours."

"Fuck! Sam!" Dean lost it, gave himself over to Sam, coming in one hot pulse after another.

Sweat stuck them together, arms and legs clinging. As he softened inside Sam, Dean knew his life had now forever changed. They were brothers, but those emotions only ran so deep. The feelings he had for Sam now felt bottomless, limitless, rife with more danger than he'd ever faced.

Dean felt Sam shudder hard again beneath his weight, warm breath stuttering against his chest where Sam's face nuzzled against him. He wasn't sure if he should chalk the wetness drizzling down his skin to Sam's sweat or something else. Dean had never before seen Sam cry, but things had changed. _God_, how things had changed.

Sam's voice sounded so small, so young, a reminder of the precariousness of the line they'd just crossed over with a huge, leaping step. "No matter what I might say some day, Dean, or what I might do, I'll always love you. Try to remember that, okay?"

"Yeah, of course I will, Sammy." Dean caressed Sam's face with gentle fingers, worried by Sam's words. Sex had a way of tapping the most vulnerable parts of a person; Dean knew that firsthand. "I'll always love you too. No matter what, you'll always be the one I love the most."

Sam nodded and curled up against Dean. The well-stoked fire Dean had built in the perfect ring Sam had made burned bright and strong, enough along with body heat to keep them warm through the night.

The rest, only time would tell.

* * * * *

 

The beast hadn't come after Sam and Dean, and it hadn't returned to town. After another round of questioning citizens and patrolling the woods, John Winchester announced the decision to pack it up.

"Let's go, boys," John said, jerking his neck in the direction of the Impala parked under a small copse of trees.

"Coming, Dad!" Sam yelled as he squeezed himself out of the cave where he and Dean had spent the night.

Dean, shifting from foot to foot, glared at Sam when he emerged. Whispering through his teeth, Dean said, "Why the hell'd you go back in there?"

Sam grinned. "I wanted a souvenir. Not every day a guy loses his virginity."

Dean felt his eyes widen, horrified at the potential. "This better not be anything gross."

"Nah," Sam said, dimples making another appearance. Maybe their indiscretion hadn't been such a bad thing after all. Seeing Sam smile again seemed more than worth it. Sam held out a fist and uncurled his fingers. Two small black pebbles, worn to perfect satin smoothness from sitting under the drip in the cave for God only knew how long. He handed one of the little stones to Dean. "Keep it. Could make a necklace out of in case you ever lose the other one I gave you."

Dean felt a rush of pride and love wash through him, and he fought off the stinging in his eyes. He fingered the metal amulet hanging on a cloth string around his neck. "This ain't going anywhere, little brother. Nothing short of the end of the world would ever make me take it off."

Sam shrugged, grin dimming marginally. He offered the pebble again. "Humor me. Just in case."

Reluctantly, Dean took the small stone and stuck it in the front pocket of his jeans, hoping the acceptance wouldn't become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Shit like that had a tendency to happen to the Winchesters. "Thanks, Sammy." 

"If you don't get in the car right now," Bobby yelled, "we're gonna leave you here as bait."

"Come on," Dean said, putting a hand on the back of Sam's neck. "Let's go home, wherever that is this week."

When they reached the Impala—which, Dean noted, looked like it had been freshly washed—John tossed Dean the keys.

"You can drive," John said as Bobby settled into the front passenger seat.

"Nah, that's okay." Dean shook his head and tossed the keys back to his father. "I think I'll ride in the back with Sam this time."

John looked sort of stunned. "You never turn down a chance to drive. Are you sick?"

"More likely possessed," Bobby said with a snort.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Jesus, can't a guy want to spent some quality time with his little brother without getting a ration of shit? Get in the car, Sammy."

Sam, obviously biting his bottom lip, opened the car door and climbed in.

John's eyes narrowed. "You look different. What happened out here?"

Dean wrinkled his nose and shrugged. "Nothin'. Just spent some time thinking about my priorities, is all."

Without another word, Dean climbed into the back seat beside Sam.

Sam immediately nestled closer, resting his head on Dean's shoulder, and Dean put an unashamed hand on Sam's knee.

  


~ The End ~

 


End file.
